“That’s sport and no error!” cried Boxy. “Now, if we can only get at some more deer to-morrow——”
“Oh, you want the earth!” cried Andy. “Deer are not so plentiful as all that.”
Nevertheless Boxy’s head was set on bringing down a deer, and the next day he went off with none but Pickles. The two were gone until dark, and, true enough, they came back with a small deer, which Pickles had wounded in the foreleg and Boxy had shot through the neck. On that same day the others shot half-a-dozen rabbits and partridge, and also brought down two silver-white foxes, which they resolved to take home to have stuffed.
That night they had an unexpected experience which at first gave them a great scare. They were all seated near the fire relating their various experiences, when, without a warning, there came a crash from overhead that caused all of them to spring to their feet in alarm.
“What’s that?” cried Boxy.
“Evidently something is giving way!” exclaimed Jack.
“Suah de roof’s comin’ down!” howled Pickles.
“That sounds like it, certainly,” said Harry, who was the calmest of the crowd.
“Rush for outside!” yelled Andy, as he made for the doorway.
“Andy, come back!” called Jack, catching hold of him.